


Short Poems

by Terence



Series: Short [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13636914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terence/pseuds/Terence
Summary: Short poems I think will help.





	1. Lights

I blink, they flicker  
They shudder, as do I  
I breathe, they sigh  
I look up at the single, yellowing bulb  
And quietly ask it what no one has,  
"What have you been through?"  
.  
.  
.  
.  
It stops.  
Waits.  
Breathes.  
Shudders.  
Before it sighs out,  
"Horror."


	2. Laughs

It laughs. And laughs and laughs and laughs.  
Laughs itself sick  
Before breaking off in sudden, startling silence.

It takes a shuddering breath.  
"Who are you, huh?  
That's what you wish.  
To know who you are."

I nod in slight increments  
Scared, terrified  
Of the answer, of the creature.  
It just stares. And stares and stares and stares.

Before uddering out  
"You know.  
You don't know.  
You wish you knew.  
You will never know.  
You will struggle and suffer  
To find out  
But never will.  
Because you know it  
And hid from it."

I shake my head in denial  
Tears gathering.  
"Please no.  
Give me something else.  
Let me be someone else."

It's grin is sharp and dangerous,  
Terrifying.  
"No.  
Suffer.  
Struggle.  
Hate it  
And yourself.  
Till you love it.  
Only then will you know  
And be free.  
So struggle and suffer.  
Writhe and scream.  
Fight and flee.  
Be free."


	3. Cries

Crying ricochets off the walls  
Announcing its pain,  
Its pleas.  
The tears are begging that can't be spoken,  
Transcribed into sentences that explain.  
Explain the pain  
Explain the hurt  
Explain the trauma. 

"Help," it cries  
"Help," it yells  
"Help," it pleads.

But ignored it goes.  
For their ears are deafened  
Blank to the pleas.

Ignored, it continued  
It cries  
It screams  
It shouts.

It's silence.  
The screams are no more  
The shouts are no more  
The cries are no more.  
Because they never were  
And never will be.

They're not allowed.  
Not welcome.  
So the crying happens silently  
The screams  
The shouts.  
All silent.  
Except the smiles.


	4. Smiles

Smiles!  
All that matter!  
All that are!  
There is no crying,  
Are no tears!  
For those are banned!  
Damned for the sinned.

The smiles are there!  
All happy in gathering,  
But what is that?  
A frown, a tear?

No, no  
My dear friend,  
What are you doing?  
What is wrong?

Why dare you cry, on such joyous day?  
Have you no shame?  
Are you so selfish?  
To take the light and toss it away?

Off you go,  
Join the sinned,  
The sinners and damned.  
You have no place.  
You are disgrace.  
Now out of my face.


	5. Rage

The rage, the screams  
Leave none untouched.  
But me more so,  
In silence, in hope.

Hidden away,  
It festers,  
It rots.  
Turned to tarr,  
Blackend guts wreak havoc upon the host.

The screams are silent, though loud  
Paradoxical, but true.  
It hurts.  
It aches.

The scream turned sigh is quietly released,  
Hidden away with most.  
The rage and hurt still festers and rots.  
Painful.  
Painful.  
Oh so very very painful.

But what can be done?  
Can it be talked about?  
Spoken aloud?  
Will it right all wrongs?

No.  
So keep silent.  
Hurt.  
Suffer.  
Shhh  
You deserve far worse.

It shouldn't be stopped.  
So shut it and suffer,  
Struggle to stay afloat in the tarr, the hurt.  
The hurt is the rage,  
The rage is the hurt.  
One of the same,  
Same of the one.

They mix and mix and mix,  
Indescribable from one another.  
The hurt is the rage  
The rage is the hurt.  
Burning beneath blacken ribs,  
Blacked from hope.


	6. Questions

They stare at the ceiling,

Wondering why.

Why are they so pathetic?

Why can't they do anything right?

Why can't they be normal?

Why won't they just end it?

 

They know the answers.

They're weak.

They're stupid.

They're disgusting.

**_They're a coward._ **

 

They weep at this knowledge,

Yet remain indifferent to it.

They know. They care.

They don't show it though.

 

They hide from it.

Hide behind masks, behind façades.

Behind themselves.

They don't want to admit it, though.

 

People get angry at this, though.

Angry that they hide.

Angry at not noticing.

Angry at noticing.

Angry.

 

They get so angry,

They tear the poor person down,

Drag them to the ground,

Rip them to shreds.

Laugh at their tears and spit on them.

 

This isn't real, though.

They imagined it in their guilt.

Guilty that they make people angry.

They just want to hurt

And feel better.


	7. Cope

"Come here, darling," it coos in its rasping voice.

"I'll take care of you," it whispers, drawing you into its gnarled arms.

"Don't worry, baby, I'll be here for you," it murmurs.

"Drink," it pushes a bottle to your lips.

"Fuck," it pushes you towards somebody.

"Fight," it presses anger into your head.

"Come on, honey, you'll know it'll make you feel better."

"Do it for us."


	8. Laying

Curled in bed, staring at the wall

Wondering when I'll end it all.

Will it be when its too much?

Or when its too little?

Will I be overwraught with emotion?

Or devoid of feelings?

Will it be pills?

Or the rope?

No telling, failure.

Just gotta wait and see.

 


	9. Kisses

I hum with a grin, your taste on my lips.

Its bad, I know, but I love your kiss.

So bad, unhealthy, and especially strange.

But, honey, my love, you get me through the day.

The razor, you see, its not for me.

No material pain is really.

I love the torturing of my mind,

Flourish in its harsh embrace.

Call me a bitch, a mess, a utter disgrace.

Cuddle me as you tell me I'm worthless, a failure.

Oh, baby, I know, I really do.

Not sure how I plan to survive, but hey, let's see!

Maybe I'll live to twenty.

Maybe I'll die at sixteen.

Lets see, doll, how well I'll do.

Doesn't matter much, I'll come crawling back to you.


	10. Touches

Two hands.

There have been two hands.

One consenual, but oddly felt.

The other a sleepy, unpleasant embrace.

One claimed to love me, and maybe he did.

But I didn't care, riding on curiosity and mild despair.

Didn't know why, until it unlocked the secret chapter.

Disgusting, disgusting, _disgusting_.

The _Other_.

The Other used to be a comfort, I suppose.

Can't see it now.

Doesn't matter, creep, you're disgusting anyhow.

Hands on a child as they slept,

So trusting, so young, 

A disgustingly wet mess.

That's what you wanted, right? 

To hear squelches that burned my ear,

To smell the fear wafting off of me. 

To see how much could fit in a tiny orifice.

You got your answer.

I layed still and let you finish.

Now _let me go_.

Why must I be stuck with this knowledge?!

I don't want it!!

I don't!

Doesn't matter, I guess, 

'Cause its melded to the bone.

No forgetting, like I once did.

No going back, thanks to _Him._

The Other did his job, and One just reminded me.

I'm made for hands, honey.

Let's see how many more I can get.


	11. Naughty

Naughty, naughty kitten.

Naughty, naughty pup.

Spank me in the kitchen,

Fuck me on the rug.

Kiss me as I'm choking,

Lick me as I scream.

Bang me as I'm cleaning,

Slap me as I cream.

You know I live for this, 

To please only you.

Tie me up and love me,

Bruise me and I'll plead.

Oh, honey, I'll be there waiting,

For you to do me in.

To end me as we're fucking,

To kill me as I sin.


	12. Songs

I cradle myself with an odd hum.

I sway gently as I start to sing softly.

The song is my pain and woes.

Woes and pains that won't let me escape.

My voice shakes and quivers as I do,

Cracks and quiets as I feel drowned.

When my song stops, I look around.

No one.

No one is around.

No one heard.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I began to sweep up the shattered and tarnished pieces of myself,

I must go on, despite not wanting to.

Why, I don't even know anymore, 

But I _must_ continue.

Maybe one day someone will hear my song and join in.

Maybe someone already has and is singing softly.

Maybe I'll find out.

Maybe I'll never know.

Either way, I go on singing my song amd breaking apart daily.

The show must go on.


	13. Breathing

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

A repeating cycle with no end.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The cycle doesn't end until I do.

In, out.

It always starts the same way,

A lost in interest.

I struggle to find joy in what I once loved.

In,

That's followed by the numbness and irritation.

It's always a struggle not to snap at people.

Out.

Then comes the loathing.

Towards my behavior, towards myself, towards my thoughts.

With the loathing comes the thought to end my life.

I don't think much of it at this stage.

In,

The numbness creeps back, but this time its paired with loathing. 

This is the dangerous stage, the stage that makes or breaks me, and I often end up broken.

This is where I resist the urge to stick hands in pots and pans, to drink unsafe things, to press a handful of pills to my lips just for the sensation.

This stage either ends uneventfully, or with a failed suicide attempt. I can't tell you which is better. 

Perhaps one day it won't be an unsuccessful attempt and I can finally release that last

Breath

Out.


	14. Reminder

Sometimes, a gentle hum is all that's needed.

A soft confirmation of understanding, a reminder that they are there, a noise of listening.

Sometimes, it's not enough.

What's wanted is the screaming in anger, the wailing of sadness, the tight grip of loving hug.

What's _needed_ is a reminder of life, the fact that you're still there; whether it be the sting of fists, the scent of roses, the heat of sex.

A reminder of life is all that's needed sometimes.


	15. Autumn

Fall

The perfect season where whether is balanced and cool and the scent of chilled air and moist leaves permeates.

A dangerous season, not simply because of the creeping depression, but also the want to go out.

The urge to seek help, to lie on a roof well past sun down, to cry, to be hospitalized, to be medicated, to cease existence, to continuing living, to enjoy life.

Fall marks the mix of all of these feeling and more. Its the beautiful, perfect, dangerous, harrowing season.

 


	16. Eyes

Tired, guilty eyes.

Such tired, guilt-ridden eyes

Lazily gazing around.

A smiling, lying mouth

Spewing utter bullshit.

Hands doing fuck-all to stop it,

Pulling closer, pressing against warmth.

A wretched tongue working with the lying mouth, 

Putting together such pretty, disgusting words.

"Fuck, yeah; more, baby."

Such bullshit.

Pure bullshit.

Damn, that guilt is consuming.

Feel so gross, but why?

Consent is consent is consent.

Never revoked, never challenged,

Consent is consent is consent.

 


	17. Identity

Who am I?

That's the oft asked question.

It's oft asked but not what I want to know.

What I want to know is _what_ I am.

I look human, but skin can be shed and changed.

I seem unhuman, but I belong to the void;

To the sad, somber swansongs and the horrid fear of the darkness.

I am vantablack, the absence of light.

The urge to burn bidges of friendship and leave bruises on faces.

And yet, I have so much good.

I'm the warm cup of coffee on a cold winter day,

The change given to the unfortunate.

A hand to hold during dark times, and a loving embrace.

Am I darkest of night or the brightest of day?

I'm two extremes wrapped in human skin.


	18. Uncertainty

I don't know what to do.

To get better, something has to be done,

But I don't know what.

People tell me what to do to make it all better

But will it really?

Will it truly help?

I don't know.

I don't know what to do.

The things I do end up doing,

It's like a childish bandaid on a wound far too deep,

The blood keeps running, soaking through the plastic bandage.

What I need is stitches, but I can't get to the hospital or figure it out myself.

When most are uncertain, they turn towards their god.

But is there a god for a dirty creature like me?

A patron for something so torn up and tarnished?

Will they look at me and find me deserving,

Of saving, of love.

I feel like Icarus flying too close to the sun,

Knowing I'll fall, but wanting to touch.

He shouldn't have and neither should I.

And yet, here we are, free falling into the deep, dark ocean,

No hope for saving, 

No savior in sight.

We'll drown together,

Him and me, 

Me and him.

In this, we are one

Two creature far too good and curious,

Who've made such bad decisions.


	19. Inside

I gently press my hand to glass and watch as it _slams_ its hand in the same spot.

I give it a small smile and it returns it with a manic grin.

I frown softly and its features twist into a scowl.

I slowly lean my forehead on barrier and stare at it as it does the same, surprisingly.

I close my eyes and press a gentle kiss to glass, feeling it shatter.

The creature returns my kiss with teeth and tongue.

I can do nothing but bleed and let it.

I allow it to consume my spirit and sip from my soul, taking everything that I am.

It replaces it with something distorted and cracked that breaks me.

I fall to ground and it follows, covering my body with its huge frame.

It presses its face to mine in a faux kiss, forcing me to reciprocate.

I started this embrace and now I can never end it.


	20. Shambles

I stare at the old, decrepit house that seems to suck in the light around it.

Its lawn is overgrown and dying, crying to be taken care of.

I walk past it onto the porch and allow myself a moment to look through the cracked window.

Inside is dark and dusty with everything covered in cobwebs.

It looks like a normal abandoned house, but I know better. 

I can feel its subtle breaths and hear its quiet wails.

I should turn around and go home, spend another day wasting away.

I open the door and walk inside.

The house beckons me into its deepest chambers and I follow.

Its inhabitants gently caress my arms and shoulders as I walk past.

They whisper horrorfying things in a loving voice.

When I reach a descending staircase, they scatter and I'm left staring into its gaping maw.

The urge to listen to the house grows and I make the first step.

A hand shoots out and grabs my leg.

It pleads wordlessly to turn back and never enter this place.

 I blink and kick the hand away before continuing down.

The house greets me at the bottom, a crooked grin decorating its decaying face.

Its body is disgusting amd in shambles.

It opens its arms and cooes softly.

I walk into its open arms amd let it take me.


	21. Love

A hum, a skip, a quick little kiss

"I love you, my dear, I do, I do!"

A cut, a tear, a face full of fist

"You love me too, I know you do!"

A sob, a hiss, a handful of pleas

"You'll stay here, my dear, and let me love you!"

More pleas and touches wrapped in blood

"My dear, my dear, my dearly beloved!"

A scream cut short, and a raging retort.

"Be silent, my dear, before they find you!"

Quiet crying and a shaking body

"I love you, my dear, I do, I do!"

Forever trapped in this viscious grip.


	22. Spiraling

I'm supposed to feel better.

I'm supposed to feel _better._

I'm _supposed_ _to_ feel _better_.

_I'm supposed to feel better...!_

But I don't.

But I don't!

Is a fault of my own,

Am I supposed to atone?

What did I do to myself?

What do I do _with_ myself?

I'm not sure, I don't know.

I'm _not_ sure, I _don't_ know!

I'm going to die...?

I'm going to die.

I'm _going_ to _die_!


	23. Guilt

Muffled sobs escape the collapsed body

They weep harshly into their bloodied hands.

"What have I done? What do I do?"

"Finish what you started, you pitiful fool."

They jolt and look to the mangled body that lay in front.

Its face is wrecked beyond repair but it manages to speak evenly.

"You did this."

They sob more and nod quickly. 

They did, after all.

"You started this, so finish it." 

They shake their head and weep harder.

"How pathetic."

They nod again and crawl towards it.

"Finish what you start."

They shake and tremble as they bring their hands to it.

"You did this. End it."

They wrap their hands around its already bruised throat.

"Do it."

They squeeze and squeeze till it talks no more.

"What have I done?" They whisper as they watch themself crumble to dust.


	24. Existence

Hm.

I seem to exist on the brink of oblivion,

Floating between the empty abyss and the bustling world,

Curled into a balled and hoping for it all to go away,

To escape the endless nothingness and the colorful reality.

Hoping to find a plane of existence that is devoid of either,

Hoping to find _some_ way to depart from edge of the worlds.

If I fly far enough in either way, will I find what I search?

Or will I be stuck in a vacant realm, in a hectic cosmos?

I curl tighter and continue my petty existence.


	25. Icarus

Icarus was a fool.

He spent eternity locked in a gilded cage,

Longing for a freedom foreign to him.

Yet, as his freedom grew closer, 

As did he to sun.

He knew the repercussions.

He knew.

And yet, like a love struck fool,

He yearned to be closer to Apollo.

And closer he got.

Until he began to fall,

Crying out for his father and his love,

One watching his descent in horror, 

The other in indifference.

He fell into the ocean and there was no hope for him.

No matter his struggles nor his wants,

He had no chance. 

Before the eyes of a cruel god and a grieving parent, he drowned.

Icarus was a fool.

As am I.


	26. Memories

A shaky smile lingers on a tearstained face.

They cry and laugh and cry and laugh.

Their mistakes float by along with memories better left forgotten. 

They sob and giggle as they watch them slowly drift by.

A heated moment filled with underage kisses. 

They cackle at their stupidity as tears stream down their face.

A horrid couch with two bodies, one small and scared, the other older and "sleeping."

They sob harshly followed by a gasping hiccup.

A calm atmosphere broken by loud laughter then annoyed yelling. The silence and fear follows.

A rushed meeting, four little hands groping equally small bodies.

A picture of bruised skin, muffled moans, and whispered thoughts.

A closet with two kids, naked and curious.

Laughter, crying, crying laughter.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

They sit in the void and watch the memories float by, crying and laughing.


	27. Reasons

People say that everything happens for a reason.

What's the reasoning for the bad things that happen?

Why must people be killed and raped and maimed?

Why is there war?

Why starvation?

What's the reason?

What's the answer?

There's no good one.

Only that someone decided that it should happen.

A singular person made the decision to ruin someone else's life by putting their hands in a place they don't belong.

A single person decided that they didn't like a type a people and thought genocide would be the answer.

A single person decided.

 


	28. Help

A child lay in a pool of cooling blood.

Their eyes blink slowly and their breaths are shallow.

They are dying.

Killed by their own mistakes.

Oh, what a tale of woe.

And yet, they live.

Just barely clinging on to life, 

Surrounded by their own fluids;

Tears, sweat, blood, spit,

All spilt as they were shoved down.

They lie on the ground, a pipe protruding from their guts.

They give shallow gasps as tears kiss their ears. 

A vaguely corvid figure looms above,

Mocking the child for their idiocy. 

"You left, you left.

Your safety, you left.

Your death, you met.

A meal for the rest."

The shadows coalesce and reach for the child.

"The fox hears the rabbit's cry and comes a-running, but never to help."


	29. Us

A sick grin stains his face.

His mouth opens to let his tongue flick out and taste the blood on his lips.

His eyes roll and he hums.

So delicious.

The taste of my demise.

I hug myself as he creeps closer.

My side sluggishly bleeds.

He bends to my height,

Shoving his face in mine.

He yanks my hair and forces me into a kiss.

It's filthy, nasty, and wrong.

His mouth taste like blood and despair.

His licks the roof of my mouth before pulling back.

"Heyya, there, lovely. Did you miss me, hon?"

I shudder and stare,

Silent as the dead.

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.

"You knew I was coming back, love. I always do, sweetheart."

He wraps a hand around my throat,

Pulls me to my feet.

Lays his forehead to mine and breathes my air.

His eyes slowly close and his hand slides to the nape of my neck.

"You can rest now, love."

I breathe out and my eyes slide closed.

By the time we opens our eyes, I'm gone.

A tear slides down our cheek as we mourn what was lost.

Here we are now,

One in the same.

For better or worse,

This is us.


End file.
